


Legacy

by Mmjohns



Series: Clexa by MMJohns [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Clexa dies, Darkness, F/F, Heda Clarke, Nightblood clarke, Sad Clarke, Soulmates, Suffering, angst angst and more angst, natblida clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mmjohns/pseuds/Mmjohns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got a PM a little while back, that PM expressed their displeasure at my lack of angst stories, as such I have written this, I will warn you, it is a dark story, if you can’t handle such angst please don’t read it, <b> WARNING there will be mentions of suicide </b></p><p>There is a "happy" ending however</p><p>updated 11:20AM 31/10/2016<br/>edits made; Word choice, Grammar, Spelling. no major storyline changes made</p><p>12:00pm 1/11/2016 this will now be a collection of any angsty stories that i post of CLexa, blame the fanverse for having so many sad clexa images</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings  
> Contemplated suicide, angst, major character death, Death of Lexa  
> Relationships;  
> Clarke and Lexa

Time passes slowly when your life has been torn asunder, you constantly wonder what you missed, a look, a sound, it tears at you, knowing that you missed something, knowing that your slip leads to the person you loved dying in your arms. 

 

For Clarke, this knowledge is too much, the knowledge that Lexa, her Lexa, goofy love is weakness Lexa is dead. She killed her. She is the reason Lexa is dead. It might have been Titus` bullet that stole her away, but that bullet was meant for her, that bullet was her fault, and she honestly can't take that.

 

As she lies on the bed beside her dead lover she is reminded of all the lives she has taken; the 300 warriors at the dropship, the 60 members of the hundred, the hundreds in Mount Weather she slaughtered at the push of a button, those of her own people killed as the mountain fell down around them, Lexa, all her fault. 

 

The grounders call her Wanheda, the commander of death, and never has a name been more fitting because that’s what she is. She leaves a mile wide swathe of death and destruction wherever she goes, men, women, children, young and old, none are spared. All she can think about is that maybe, maybe it would be best for everyone if she were to simply die if she were to take the knife that rests at her side and slit her wrists, follow her lover into the afterlife, let their souls meet once more in the ether. It would be so simple, two small cuts and her blood would flow from her veins. She would be reunited with her love; she would be free from this pain once and for all. 

 

But she can`t, she can`t do that it. It would be selfish, she needs to live, as much as she wishes to die, to fall beside her lover and never wake; she can`t, her people need her, Lexa`s people need her. She will not dishonour her love by allowing all her hard work to die; she will not allow the alliance to fall apart and turn into civil war.

 

She will survive, not live, no never live, the time for that has passed, but she will survive, she will make sure that all of Lexa`s hard work lives on and then one day they will be reunited. Today will not be that day, nor tomorrow, but when she meets her love in the ether once more she will walk forward with open arms and a sound heart knowing she did the right thing, that she did what needed to be done.

 

Months pass and Polis falls into mourning. A conclave is announced, only a single Natblida answers, only the one called Ontari Kom Azgeda comes to the Polis. No other Natblida exist. Ontari is truly the last of her kind, but not for long.

 

Those months had been busy, the mountain had been felled, and the Skaikru had fallen under blockade. Luckily many remained loyal, many more feared Wanheda and remembered when she stood at Heda`s side, in her absence Clarke acted as the regional governor. 

 

Apparently, Lexa had seen Titus` betrayal and walked knowingly into it, hoping to save Clarke from her death, only to fall, the victim herself. Even as the Natblida Ontari stands before the palace preparing to announce herself, Heda, Clarke's plans fall into action. It is this that leads to her standing at the top of the stairs, wearing the armour Lexa had worn before her, and challenging Ontari.

 

The plan had been long coming, but it had happened. Finally, Clarke's mother had reverse engineered the serum to create Natblida, and now Clarke stands before them all, the first in a new generation of Natblida. Ready to challenge Ontari, ready to protect her lover`s legacy.

 

Many scoffed when she announced the challenge, after all to them, Clarke, was not Natblida, and even if she were she is not the long trained warrior Ontari was. As she slits her own palm letting the blood black as the night sky fall slowly to the ground their disbelief makes them fall silent.

 

Ontari believes she is safe, she will kill Clarke, and then there will be no challenge to her rule, she will kill Clarke and then burn the Skaikru to the ground. What she hadn't counted on was the anguish Clarke had felt, the pain of her lover's death driving her forward, making her stronger, more ruthless. For the last three months, she has trained day and night, the soft skyborne body evaporating under such stress, gone is the softness in her body instead replaced with hard earned corded muscle, her nightblood allowing her to grow and progress far faster than any of the other warriors. It`s strength undiluted by generations of interbreeding is far stronger than it has been since the time of the first commander.

 

It is this, this and her ruthless ignorance of pain, born from the pain of so many losses that is Ontari`s undoing, she had expected a weak and easy kill. She had expected to slay the Skaiprisa like many before her. She had not expected to face a commander. 

 

She had not expected to face someone without fear of death, without fear of pain and with a ruthless resolve that made all those that came before seem tame in comparison. 

 

Her experience, her long years of training ultimately mean nothing, she falls under Clarke's blade and quickly meets her end, leaving only Clarke standing. 

 

Leaving Clarke, the rightful heir to Heda`s throne.

 

The years are hard, and many battles are fought, those of the coalition come to fear and revere Clarke like no commander before her. The stories of the lives she has taken, the cities she has burned, leave none who will not yield, none who will stand opposed to her. And yet every night when she returns to her bed she cries, she cries for lost love, she cries for those she has killed, for those she has sent to their deaths, for the deaths she has commanded and those she is yet to command. None see this weakness, not even those of the 100, those who remain fiercely loyal to her to this day, as both their commander, their saviour, and their friend.

 

None are allowed to see this side of her, because the truth is Clarke, Clarke is broken, and no amount of time, no amount of distance will heal the hole in her heart, the hole she had painstakingly carved out for Lexa. This is the burden she bears for her people, the knowledge that she shall always live a servant to her people, ready to fight and die for them, but to always come home and face her demons alone.

 

She barely sleeps and eats only what she must, if not for her nightblood she would be long dead, the pain and anguish crushing her beneath their unyielding heels. And yet she presses on because she made a promise, she promised to protect what her lover had built; she had promised to make herself worthy of Lexa`s sacrifice

 

The last thing she had expected of all this was to find peace in war, to find a single ray of the sunshine buried deep beneath mountains of bodies, and soaked with blood. She did not expect to find her salvation in the form of a baby, the young Goufa barely old enough to walk and yet that is what she finds. 

 

It had been during a skirmish with the banished, they had somehow managed to enter the Trikru territory and attack a village, by the time Clarke got there, however, they had slaughtered nearly everyone, only a single soul survived, and even then she survived only long enough to make certain her baby was safe, long enough to make sure her child would not share her fate.

 

As Clarke holds this child she feels a spark of something she has long since buried. This child with dark hair and bright blue eyes, with a small rivulet of black blood leaking from a cut on her arm. The memory of Lexa is overwhelming, and for a moment she sees what might have been, she sees the life they might have had, and she sees this child, this child who looks so much like her lost love and yet so much like herself staring back at her and she can`t help but be amazed, she had long since learned peace was just an illusion. The idea that they could live peaceful lives, that blood could not have blood long since abandoned, her hopes for a family, for love all stripped away from her by a bullet, and yet here she stands, a second chance in her arms. A chance to once again have someone she cares about in this life around.

 

The commander inside is screaming at her not to take it, not to risk such weakness, but the voice of Clarke, the voice that had remained dormant since Lexa`s death, it`s voice calls for her to say yes, to take this chance, to have a life, to have a family.

 

So she does.

 

News spreads amongst the clans, and soon everyone knows that the commander has adopted a child, has taken a child born from the ashes of her lover`s clan and made it her own. Many of those of the coalition make the journey to Polis see the commander’s new daughter, all but for a few are turned away. Only those of the 100 are allowed to meet their new prisa, for Clarke strives to keep her safe, she will not lose Katia like she did Lexa. 

 

It is unsurprising when the clans take this as a sign of weakness, those of the plains nation attempt to kidnap and kill Katia; Clarke burns their cities and villages to the ground then salts the earth, her statement being clear. If they harm her daughter nothing on earth will save them. 

 

Katia for her part grows into a fine young woman. Clarke can't help but be proud of her, and yet every time she looks at her she is reminded of her dead lover. Katia soon realises her mother's pain, and she seeks to mend it in many ways, but it takes Clarke telling her the story of Lexa`s death until she finally understands. 

Her mother's soul has been rent in half and nothing can help that, she does not doubt her mother's love, the private teachings, the late nights spent reading, the 30 guards that accompany her everywhere are proof enough of that. She just wishes that her mother could move on from her pain, she wishes she could help her mother as her mother had helped her.

 

Katia is 26 when her mother dies, she wakes one morning and goes for her run before returning to their apartments. When her mother does not appear by lunchtime, she becomes worried and goes in search of her, as soon as she sees her lying in the bed she knows what has happened. 

Her mother is dead, she had passed away in the night, and now her fight, her pain, is over. 

"yu gomplei ste odon Nomon" she whispers as she presses one final kiss to her mother's hair

 

Years later she will smile as she watches a pair of girls running through Polis` streets, one with golden hair chasing her green-eyed friend, but for now, she has a job to do, she is to be Heda, and this is Heda`s burden.

 

Finis


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another CLEXAdeath fiction, this one without as much of a happy ending (prompt: they are reunited, just not in this life)

The day Lexa died Clarke felt abandoned, she felt as if her very world had been torn away from her. 

 

She watched as Lexa`s very soul abandoned her body, flowing away like the blood that soaked the sheets. 

 

She felt her heart break and shatter as her beloved left her.

 

She felt herself slip away and the Wanheda take over. The fury, the pain, the hatred all building up until they reach a crashing crescendo.

 

Titus sees this, he tries to run. He barely makes it three steps before he is felled, Lexa`s fallen sword beheading him. For three days, no one enters, and no one exits, and in that time Clarke refuses to move from her lover’s side. She prays for her lost love to come back to her; she prays for her love to find a way. 

It doesn’t. 

The fourth day Ontari enters backed by a small army of Azgeda assassins. She makes her way toward the Wanheda expecting her intent to be swiftly carried out, she was wrong. As soon as she is in range of Clarke's blade, she feels a sharp slash, cold steel bisecting her throat as Clarke now stands beside the bed Lexa`s blade in her hand. 

The blade was sharpened as Clarke knelt beside her lover for three days, its sharpness almost surgical. Ontari barely felt the cut before her head rolls off her shoulders. The assassins seeing their queen felled quickly rush to attack. But Clarke, she doesn’t even hesitate, it is like during the heat of battle she can feel Lexa beside her, like she can feel her lover talking to her, telling her what to do.

When she eventually lowers her sword those around her lie dead, their limbs cut from their bodies, their eyes staring blankly.

 

When she exits the room, there is a hole in her chest where her heart had once been. All those around her steer well clear, her pain, her anger, and her fury are clear to see. The Commander of Death had once been but an aspect of Clarke kom Skaikru, but it was clear to see that the last of Clarke had fallen away, drawn with her love into the ether leaving nought but for the Wanheda.

 

The first to fall before the Wanheda was the ambassador from the glowing Forrest, who had assisted Ontari`s attempted coup. In her dying moments, Lexa had named Clarke the Regent of Polis, naming her the interim Heda. The ambassador seeking to utilise Heda`s death to her own advantage tried to install Ontari hoping for a favour in return. Instead of finding herself seated beside Heda`s throne she found a blade through her throat as Clarke heaves her over the nearby balcony. Screaming as she fell the hundreds of meters to the ground.

 

After this none of the ambassadors dare challenge Clarke, it becomes clear to all that the woman who stands before them is broken, broken by her lover`s death, but unlike many who became weak and malleable, this Woman had become the true embodiment of her name. none dare challenge she who was Commander of Death.

 

It took only half an hour for Clarke to order the blockade rescinded and replaced with a war party, sent in to purge the Skaikru. Only Abby, Raven, Marcus, Octavia, Lincoln and the children were to be spared. 

Those of the council initially worried about the purge of the Skaikru and the effect it would have, but they dared not question Clarke. By weeks end the Skaikru camp was littered with the charred corpses of those who had attacked Trikru. Those who had been spared had been allowed to collect their things before coming to Polis.

At first it was difficult for them to understand why Clarke had acted as she had, but they quickly realised that by making such sacrifices she had given them a chance at a future. Octavia still grieves for her brother, but she slowly is realising there were no other options, she has seen the fury with which the Trikru kill murderers, at least this way Bellamy was offered an honourable death.

 

When they returned to the city, they found a city in mourning, the once happy and boisterous streets lied cold and empty. The people wear a red band of cloth bound to their clothes, and it slowly becomes clear what has happened, that the commander lies dead. As soon as they arrive at the tower, they are quickly rushed through bathing and dressing before they are escorted to the courtyard where a funeral pyre stands. 

Atop the pyre a body lies draped in a bolt of crimson cloth. Beside her stands Clarke, her armour is that of the commander with but a single difference, she bears a blue sash, she refuses to wear the colour of her dead lover for in her mind There shall never be another Heda. They watch as Clarke with her pain clear to see steps forward and lights the pyre. 

Around them echoes the sounds of the grounders giving their passing blessings, but it is Clarke whispering the travellers blessing that catches their ear. "May we meet again ai hodnes."

 

When the pyre is burning low, everyone begins to leave everyone except Clarke who waits until the fire has burnt out and is handed a small urn of ashes. As she walks back to the tower everyone clears a path, it is clear to see that Clarke has left. Where once the people has been blessed with a small smile or grin now there was nought but for pain upon her face.

 

The peace in the following months was hard fought, those of the clans who had only submitted to Lexa out of fear soon sought to leave the coalition thinking that now the Heda was dead there was little to threaten them. What they found instead though was that the Wanheda who now lead the coalition was aptly named. She rode ahead of her armies and swept into the heat of battle. Soon those of the clans learned to fear and respect the warrior mounted on the former Heda`s war horse. Many times, all that it took to quell a rebellion was the image of the lone rider atop a nearby mountain or knoll.

 

As the years pass the warlike ways of the clans, gradually begin to yield to peace as those who had been born into the coalition took over from their forbearers. In only 15 years they manage to form a singular nation, governed by a senate and guarded by the armies of Wanheda. In all this time, it became clear to those of the Skaikru who had survived just what price Clarke had paid for this peace. She had given her life, her love and her soul for the chance at peace for her people. 

The atrocities she had committed served only to further unify the once blood thirsty clans, she trained a loyal group of peacekeepers, a new generation of Nightbloods who would preserve the peace when she passed.

 

As the years passed the ranks of the nightblood swelled as those of the clan who were orphaned at birth were brought into the warrior sect. The nation’s borders soon began to swell as they were no longer killing each other in droves as they once had. 

Clarke watches as those she had known gradually found lovers and bore children and throughout this time she remained alone, spending her time training the nightblood. 

She watches as Octavia and Lincoln raise their children, she sees Abby and Kane marry grow old and eventually die. And all through this, she chooses to stay alone, honouring that one lost the love that for her was her last love. Her friends try to get her dating, but they give up after a few years.

 

In the years that Clarke lives she sees all manner of things, from coup d’état to assassinations and plagues and even the birth of dictators. It never changes her rule as regent, her people always come first, she leads head over heart much like her lover had. Until finally, it is her time to step into the ether and be reunited with her love.

 

When her time finally comes, she steps forward taking deaths hand and allowing him to lead her from her body toward her ageless love, the person for whom she had longed over the last decades  
When she finally steps forward passing the barrier between life and death she sees her love waiting for her, her Lexa, braided hair and a soft smile; waiting hand outstretched. She takes her hand and allows her lover to lead her away and back to the life she had dreamed of, finally leaving the stresses of surviving behind and just being able to live.


End file.
